Every so often, I get out of the habit of posting here on Word Savvy. It's a pattern I despise.

Now, I'm back, and I'll tell you about life in a two-dog household.

Back at the start of the quarantine here in March, we picked up Ripper from a lovely spot in Wisconsin. She was about 4 pounds at that point and very adorable at eight-weeks old. As a cockapoo, Ripper doesn't shed, and that's truly a blessing.

Teddy, our goldendoodle, was almost five at the time of Ripper's homecoming. I'll say he wasn't thrilled at her arrival. Having a younger sister was not something he asked for or seemed to particularly crave. But over days and weeks and now months, he seems to have adjusted to her presence. The two canines tussle multiple times per day in a way that I feel is mutually satisfying. Ripper, a quite small dog who seems to have settled in at about twelve pounds, jumps up on her older brother and snaps her jaws on his floppy ears. You'd think this might hurt him, but it doesn't seem to. Teddy either ignores her or engages in some rough-and-tumble playtime.

Only once did such playtime end in a trip to the vet, and now Ripper seems more adept at avoiding Teddy's Tigger-like bounces.

Overall, I'd rate having two dogs as 4.5 of 5 stars. It's everything I thought it would be, both more fun and more expensive. Worth it, as they say in economics.

We're wearing masks and trying to stay away from one another, but we're also taking to the streets and demanding overdue justice and denouncing police brutality.